


Cold-Blooded

by zams



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Tommy Ratliff (Musician)
Genre: Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-15
Updated: 2011-08-15
Packaged: 2017-10-22 15:58:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/239853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zams/pseuds/zams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Tommy's cold-blooded, okay, so Adam needs to warm him the fuck up right now before he freezes to death, and no, he's</em> not<em> exaggerating. </em></p><p><em>(Except he totally is.)</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold-Blooded

**Author's Note:**

> Rated ONLY for language. Otherwise, this is PG.
> 
> Written for [this prompt](http://glam-kink.livejournal.com/1444.html?thread=1519012) on glam_kink on LJ.

\---

Tommy's cold. Really fucking cold. Like, frost-bite, my-fingers-are-turning-blue cold. And it's all Adam's goddamned fault.

He grabs the last throw off the back of the of grudgingly-admitted comfortable couch and wraps it around himself, along with the other three blankets already around him.

Tommy's a California boy, okay? It's always warm and sunny and breezy in LA and that's how he likes it. Why Adam wanted to come to the middle of fucking nowhere Colorado in the middle of January for his holy-given, do-not-question-the-miracle week off baffles Tommy. But Adam was so excited, rambling on about how fun it would be, that they could make snow angels and drink hot chocolate, and it would be so _romantic_ , and, well. Tommy's a fucking sucker for Adam's earnest, puppy eyes and he said yes before he really thought about it. It didn't help that Adam was manhandling him into the bedroom at the time either. Otherwise, that would have been a big hell-fucking-no.

As it is, he's in a four-room log cabin about half an hour from the nearest sign of civilization surrounded by three feet of snow, in fucking long underwear, huddled on a couch in front of a blazing fire that's not really hot enough and wrapped in four blankets, only his eyes visible, and _still_ fucking freezing and shivering.

"Adam!" he yells. "Get your fucking ass in here!"

"In a second!" Adam answers, and Tommy glares at the fire for not being hotter until Adam comes into the living area from the kitchen-cum-dining room.

"About fucking time," he says, trying to sound pissed but not really succeeding because his teeth are chattering.

"I don't know how you can be this cold," Adam says as he sets two steaming mugs on the table in front of the couch. "It's only about ten degrees. Not even cold."

"Oh, fuck you," Tommy says. "The coldest it gets in LA is fifty! And that's fucking cold enough! And how are you not cold? You're from California, too!"

"Ah," Adam says. "But I was born in Indiana. Inherent resilience against cold weather."

Tommy huffs and snuggles further into the couch. "That's fuckin' bullshit."

Adam rolls his eyes at him, but he's smiling, and it only makes Tommy more irritable. "Can I snuggle with you?" he asks.

"Hmmm, no. I'm mad at you." Tommy holds his blankets tighter around him. "You can freeze."

"But I'm warm," Adam says. "Please? You can sit on my lap and I'll make you nice and toasty."

Tommy's eyes narrow. It's a tempting offer. Adam _is_ always warm and he'd probably make Tommy much warmer than the blankets could. But still. Adam dragged him out here to this godforsaken cabin in this ridiculous cold and there's not even a heater, just two fireplaces! Adam should suffer, too.

"C'mon, baby," Adam says. "I'm sorry you're cold. Let me make it up to you. I spiked your hot chocolate."

That's intriguing. Tommy gives the mugs a considering look. "With what?"

"A little bit of vodka and Bailey's," Adam says, picking up one mug and holding it out in front of Tommy, trying to bait him.

Fucking. Adam. He plays _dirty_.

Tommy can tell he's trying not to smirk. "You are an asshole," Tommy tells him as he quickly opens his blankets before he loses his nerve, wincing when the cold air hits him. He curls up on Adam's lap, tucking his head under Adam's chin and resting his legs over Adam's, and takes the blessedly hot mug from Adam and brings it up to his face, taking a deep breath. It smells _good_.

Adam chuckles quietly and brings the blankets around both of them, tucking them behind his back. Tommy's immediately warmer, wrapped in a cocoon of blankets and Adam, and he sighs contentedly.

"Better?" Adam asks, rubbing up and down Tommy's arms and chest under the blankets.

"Mmm-hmm," Tommy murmurs. He takes a sip of the hot chocolate, and fuck, it's so good he moans a little.

He feels Adam's smile against his head. "Does that mean I'm forgiven?" Adam asks as he kisses Tommy's forehead.

"Yes," Tommy says, because really. He's warm now, and the hot chocolate is delicious, and it's nice being this close to Adam, and okay, it _is_ a little romantic, just the two of them out here in a picturesque winter wonderland with no interruptions, no responsibilities, no cameras, where they can just be themselves and not worry about anything. It's been too long since they've had any time alone.

And the cabin isn't too bad. It's cozy. And the snow's pretty, too. If he's in a good mood tomorrow, he might even go outside and make a snowman with Adam. Provided he has about ten layers of clothing on.

So how can he be mad about having Adam to himself for a whole five days even if he's fucking freezing the entire time? He really can't. "Thanks for bringing me here. It's nice," he says softly, nosing under Adam's jaw.

If Adam's surprised by the abrupt change in attitude, he doesn't mention it. "Thanks for coming with me," is all he says, tilting Tommy's head up and giving him a quick peck on the lips.

And that's all they really need to say. They spend the rest of the night like that, cuddling on the couch, watching the fire, drinking spiked hot chocolate and occasionally talking, Adam's fingers combing through Tommy's hair and rubbing his scalp until Tommy's putty in his hands.

It's the best night Tommy's had in a long time.

 

 **END**


End file.
